Ordinary
by Miaka Mouse
Summary: updated! Real: the final installment of the 'Ordinary' arc "For a moment, she expected the curtain to swing at the end of the stage to reveal Heero glaring at her from the darkened corner, daring her to speak her mind."
1. Ordinary

AN: well…it **has** been awhile hasn't it? 'So Close…' has been put on hold until I'm inspired to write more… I have the final chapter half written…the ending is jus a tad…uncooperative… anyhow… I have been writing other things… this is my first GW one-shot… more of a vignette than anything but… yeah…  I got some great feedback from ppl so I decided…what the heck… i'll post it here… C&C are appreciated!

Ordinary 

By Miaka Mouse ?__)~

The sunlight filtered through the clouds with heavenly rays, illuminating scattered chosen spots on the walk.  The warm breeze ruffled the lush green leaves of the maples, and the songbirds fluttered up into the air.  They circled the trees lazily, floating higher and higher, barely touching the intimidating office building that cast an ominous shadow upon them.  The glass reflected the sunlight in bright flashes, blinding the poor birds every now and then, causing them to falter in their hypnotizing dance.  The figure behind the office window watched them wistfully, yearning for the freedom to fly so freely, even to falter as they did, without fear of anyone watching.  A loud buzz interrupted the peaceful musings of the office occupant.  Startled, she pushed the impatiently flashing red button on her desk.

"Yes?" 

"Ms. Peacecraft, I'm leaving for my lunch break now.  Did you need anything?" came a high-pitched reply from the intercom speaker.

"No, that's fine, Marcy.  Enjoy your lunch." Ten, even five years earlier, her comment would have been spoken with an almost naïve cheerfulness that would have lifted anyone's heart.  Now it was said with a realistic matter-of-factness, denoting a sense of formality. It was almost a given that the Foreign Minister would continue working while others took their hourly break.  After all, she was supposed to be perfect.  A symbol of peace, fixed on a pedestal.  Statues didn't need to eat or sleep, so why should she? She rolled her shoulders and felt the crick of her neck before finally picking up a pen to do some more work.  _I don't even get to take a coffee break_, Relena mused as she stared down at the tiny black print on the document in front of her.  A soft thump caused her to look up from the paper and toward the window where one of the twirling birds had clumsily bumped its wing.  _Oh hell, why not?  If something as graceful as a bird can fly into a window, I can afford to go out and get some coffee._ She grabbed her long black coat and headed out the office door.  She supposed she ought to let security know she was leaving, but they would insist on her taking an escort (read: bodyguard) with her.  That would be no good considering she wanted to do this with as little fuss as possible.

Of course, the moment she stepped outside it started raining. How could she have expected anything else?  But Relena was determined (as she always was) to find advantages in the situation.  Ten years ago, she would have greeted the rain with a blissful abandon that escaped her now.  She remembered a time when she loved rain as a blessing of Nature.  However, at this point in time, she couldn't very well spread her arms and twirl around in it.  Never mind the attention the 27-year-old Foreign Minister would attract with such a spectacle, but also taking into account that her afternoon meetings would not be received well if she showed up soaking wet.  

So, she took comfort in the fact that the rain would force people to keep their gazes lowered and their attentions focused on getting to drier surroundings, instead of on their truant Foreign Minister.  With a superfluous duck of her head, Relena made her way down the sidewalk towards her favorite café_.  Might as well indulge while I have the chance, she reflected as she spotted the swinging sign of her caffeine dispenser of choice. _

Keeping her gaze lowered, she made her way through the throng of people who were also on their lunch breaks.  As the crowd diverged, she noticed the homeless people sitting underneath the overhang of the café.  Their heads were bowed, like reeds in the wind, and they had wrapped newspapers around themselves as shelter against the cold. She slowed to regard them thoughtfully, their state causing a deep pang in her chest.  She wondered about their past and what had led them to this position. Could they be soldiers, unable to find a place for themselves in a world of peace?  Could one of them be Heero? She looked a bit longer at them, but none raised their heads to meet her eyes.  Would she even recognize him if she saw him now, after ten years? Her contact with him had been brief during the wars and even more fleeting during the Barton Incident. She thought she had memorized his face back then, but now she could hardly conjure his features in her mind's eye.  The only things that stood out were those intense blue eyes that seemed so determined.  Every now and then she would imagine those eyes watching her, urging her to work hard for peace, for him.    

The jangling of the bells on the door as she entered the café startled her out of her musings.  Lunch time rush hour poured over her like welcome heat, drowning out the street noise and the clack of her heels on the tile floor.  The line was moving quickly and customers were pushing past her to the exit without so much as an 'excuse me'.  

She hadn't felt so relaxed in months. 

She moved forward as the cashier called out 'next' without even looking up at her.  

"Nonfat mocha latte with whipped cream," Relena ordered matter-of-factly.

"Would you like anything else with that?" She perused the bakery case.

"Half a dozen blueberry scones," she replied after a thought, "and could you warm them up, please?" She moved forward to pay, making sure to use cash so as not to be recognized.  She could just imagine the look on the man's face if she handed him a credit card bearing her name on it.  

"You can pick up your purchase at the end of the counter." He said curtly before calling out to the next customer. She had to admit the service was quick, if not friendly. They lidded the drink, of course, which completely defeated the purpose of the whipped cream in her opinion. Still, she probably shouldn't call attention to herself any more than necessary.  She couldn't believe her luck in not being recognized.  

And as soon as that thought crossed her mind, she found herself flying through the air.  It seemed she had slipped on one of those damn plastic lids.  The first thing that came to mind was the headline that would be reporting her demise. "Minister Breaks Neck on Caffeine Excursion." Lovely.

And then she stopped, angled at a perfect 45 degrees, which shouldn't have been physically possible. The long arms that had interrupted her fall pulled her up into a standing position before asking if she was all right. Physically she was fine, thanks to the man connected to those arms, but she suddenly realized that though her bag of scones was securely held in one hand, the mocha was nowhere to be found. 

"My coffee!" she exclaimed suddenly, glancing down at her suit, expecting the worst. One arm extended from behind her to reveal her coffee cup completely intact.

"Now we know the spill-proof lids actually work," the man's deep voice commented with a hint of amusement that was somewhat hard to catch.  Finally, her eyes decided to focus on her (and her coffee's) savior.  Wearing a tailored charcoal suit with a royal blue dress-shirt and metallic gray tie, he was the archetype of the well-dressed executive.  His dark hair was combed back perfectly, but his designer wire-framed glasses seemed incongruous.  She was surprised that he was actually attractive, and then suddenly bittered by her own surprise. _Of course attractive men exist in the world.  You just don't meet them that often,_ she scolded herself. 

"Are you all right?" he repeated his first question.

"Yes, thank you," she said with a practiced smile that almost bordered on sincere. "I'm sorry about that." 

"No need to apologize, but you really should be more careful." Now she realized why she didn't like his glasses.  It was impossible to read the expression in his eyes with the light reflecting in odd angles off the lenses. Did he know who she was? Had he recognized her? 

She didn't have time for this. If she didn't get back to the office soon, they would declare a global emergency.  

"I'll try to keep that in mind." She turned to walk out the door and realized the man was right behind her.  As she stepped out into the rain, she heard his umbrella snap open and felt the lack of precipitation as its shelter came overhead. The attractive man was a little too close for comfort and she felt uncharacteristically flustered.   "Excuse me, but I'm fine. I don't need--" 

"You seemed so concerned about your clothing earlier, I thought you'd appreciate some protection from the rain." Did he have to make so much sense too? Maybe he'd leave once he observed her "delivery". She turned toward the homeless men sitting along the sidewalk and crouched down next to them.  The umbrella stayed put over her head. Damn. Rich people can **never stand being too close to the poor.  Could he actually be a good man? Attractive **and** noble? Impossible. That clinched it.  He knew who she was.**

Her companion waited patiently as she handed the bag of warm scones to the homeless man, smiling and whispering for him to remember to share.  As she stood, she looked her "shadow" squarely in the face.  He spoke before she even had the chance to open her mouth.

"How can you take time to do things like that?  Don't you do enough for society already?"  His tone wasn't accusing or disgusted or even awed.  It was simply matter-of-fact and it caught her off guard.

"I--" she stuttered, before quickly recovering, "my job isn't as satisfying as it used to be.  I don't see as much progress or benefit to the people with all the bureaucracy that seems to get in the way." She paused, regarding him with a skeptical look.  "You're not some sort of reporter or assassin, are you?"  His mouth tilted in a crooked smile, an action that seemed to be unfamiliar to his tight lips.

"I'm definitely not a reporter."

"Oh good.  I always got along better with the latter anyway."  Softening her gaze, she bowed slightly to him before turning and walking away abruptly.  The well-dressed man watched her leave, as he stood there in the drizzling rain in his gray suit, with his black umbrella amidst a river of bustling pedestrians.

**********************************

AN: hope u enjoyed that… sequel to come soon


	2. Complicated

AN: here it is! Part 2 of the Ordinary Arc. (I have a story arc! ::giggles::) I'd jus like to address something that prob wasn't clear in the first part… it's been 10 years since the mariemaia incident… so Relena's like 27 yrs old… this part is about a month after the events in 'Ordinary'… and now to respond to the lovely reviews I received!  (for those ppl who did not review, shame on u! j/k scroll down to read the story)

Solain: I'm glad ur curious… we find out a little more about our mysterious stranger here…but you'll prob have more questions by the end… don't worry… the final part is in the works.

Dragon princess: the security concerns are somewhat described in this chap… but some things may have to be inferred… I'll see what I can do to clarify in the final part… and about the noble stranger… 10 years is a long time… so it could be anyone… ^_~ I'm glad u liked! I hope you enjoy this part as well

Rhiannon: I'm flattered by your positive review! I s'pose it's my own prejudice in thinking that all 1x2 fans hate Relena… (bad mouse) but I'm glad u liked her in my fic… I was trying to mature her 10 years… I'm glad u think I succeeded… The new part is here! I hope it lives up to ur expectations.

Jaid: ur enthusiasm is encouraging! u loved it? ::feels all warm and fuzzy:: ur wait for more is over! cuz the new part is here! Lemme kno what u think!

Stone: I'm so afraid of writing short fics like this because there's a whole lot more stress on things other than plot… to know I got my point across is really inspiring… thanx for ur comments

Serendipity: was it good? Really? Thank goodness… there seems to be a lack of good relena fics out there these days… (as rhiannon put it) she comes out very pathetic and dependent on Heero… I tried to show her as the political leader she is… so happy u enjoyed it… now try the new part!

Cat: ur wish is granted… the sequel is out! Thanx so much for your review! I really appreciate it!

Now on with the fic…

Complicated

By Miaka Mouse

The breeze danced teasingly around the no-nonsense business people, as if trying to loosen their stuffy moods. It weaved easily through the well-dressed executives, ruffling their silk ties and mussing their well-kempt hair. Relena held back a giggle as the wind tickled her nape, pushing her gaze to the large maple at the edge of the Winner mansion's grounds.  She almost imagined the air whispering in her ear, encouraging her to slip off her sling-back sandals and climb away.  The tinkling of wine glasses behind her startled her out of those thoughts. She silently scolded the voice in the wind for putting such ideas into her head.  

Still, she couldn't expect one coffee break to sustain her need for freedom this long.  If anything, it made her want more.  No complications had resulted from her leisure trip…well, almost no complications.  Her absence would have gone unnoticed if it hadn't been for her overly eager aide barging into her office and tripping the alarm.  Half of the security personnel in the building came storming in, only to find it empty (save for the bewildered aide).  Relena appeared just moments later, with coffee cup in hand and an odd smile gracing her features.  She wore that smile now as she gazed upon the majestic tree in front of her, remembering the best latte she'd ever had and the man who'd 'rescued' it for her.

"I hope you're not planning to climb that tree, " a deep voice interrupted her musings. 

"Why Mr. Winner, you know I'd never be caught doing anything so _unbecoming_ of a politician."  She smiled wryly, turning to look at him.  His face was as pleasant to look at as it had been when he was younger, thought slightly more mature.  His jaw line was more pronounced and his eyes, deeper and wiser than they had been during the wars.  

"I never said anything about being caught, Miss Relena." He replied innocently, handing her a flute of sparkling cider. "I'm only asking because the tree was imported from L5, and it has been quite difficult to maintain."

"I'm sure," she cocked an eyebrow. "I suppose the grass was also imported?" 

"Of course. You know the climate conditions here don't allow for proper agriculture. I had the Maguanacs roll it out this morning." She stared at him for a moment, her face betraying none of the thoughts dancing in her head until Quatre's mouth broke out into a radiant smile, and her own broke out into laughter. Quatre chuckled silently as Relena commented between laughs. 

"You really over did it that time, Quatre.  I saw it coming from a mile away.  No one would buy that from you, not even these stuffed-shirts." 

"I'm afraid I haven't quite achieved your mastery of the public façade." Quatre commented wryly. "Speaking of which," he added after a thought, "there's someone who I've been wanting you to meet."

"Oh?" Relena raised a wary eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not what you think." Her expression did not waver and he gave a resigned sigh. "I was just going to mention that the man has the mask of civility down to pat.  He could give **you** a run for your money."  The suspicious gleam in Quatre's eyes was slightly unnerving, but she asked the question anyway.

"So who is he?" she inquired with hesitant curiosity. He clapped his hands in triumph and proceeded to speak with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

"I've been trying to buy out his company for the past year.  If I had known it would become so successful I never would have approved his business loan. Not without a lot of fine print a least," he added the last sentence with a grin.  Relena furrowed her eyebrows.

"So why would he be here? I thought your annual picnic luncheon was for investors only.  He can't be a shareholder. If you hadn't convinced me that I was paying you back for all your financial support in my projects, I wouldn't be one either." Quatre gave a dramatic huff at her last sentence.

"He will be one," was his determined reply. "All my buyouts include generous shares of Winner stock," he added, assuming his mock pompous pose.

"Oh I imagine so," Relena commented dryly. "Might I know the name of this delightfully stubborn fellow?"

"I'll let him introduce himself," Quatre offered slyly.  He led her through the cliques of business people who were laughing at dull anecdotes, trying to keep each other entertained. Her heeled sandals and mid-length pencil skirt made the trip across the lawn somewhat of an ordeal. Finally, they came face to…back with a tall man dressed in an olive suit.  Quatre cleared his throat and tapped the man on the shoulder, who then turned and smiled mechanically. 

"Quatre."

"You!" Relena's sudden gasp pulled the attention of both men in her direction.

"You know him?" Disbelief, and what looked like pleasant surprise, crept into Quatre's expression.  The question startled Relena out of her own dazed amazement.

"We…um...met at a café a few weeks ago."

"Oh." Quatre said, slightly disappointed. "Ohhh!" Sudden realization dawned on him, "the café!" Stressing the final syllable of the word, he smiled knowingly.

Relena shot him a look and turned her gaze back to the impressive man standing before her.  He was impeccably dressed, as before, with not a hair out of place, though the playful breeze had long since loosened golden tendrils out of her own carefully styled French twist. His glasses had been replaced by fashionable (and very expensive looking) sunglasses to accommodate the sunny outdoors. He was wearing that strange crooked smile she'd witnessed at their first meeting; much different from the affected one he had shown to Quatre.

"I'm sorry. I don't think I had a chance to properly introduce myself the first time we met." He put out his hand, "Rowan Welling."

"Relena Dorlian," she replied, putting her hand in his. The ruffled sleeve of her silk shirt caressed his fingertips. She was caught off guard when he brought her hand to his lips. 

"It's a pleasure, Miss Dorlian," he murmured against her knuckles. Once again she was frustrated at not being able to see the expression in his eyes. His gesture had been one she'd experienced countless times from countless men. Nevertheless, she was uncharacteristically flustered by it and hid her hand behind her back in a nervous gesture once he'd released it.  She glanced sideways at Quatre who seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. _'Traitor'_

"Quatre was telling me how interested he is in buying your company," she began, after regaining her composure.  "He neglected to tell me what exactly your company does though." She silently thanked the fates that she'd been blessed with the ability to make small talk. 

"We specialize in security systems," he replied vaguely.

"He's being overly modest," Quatre inputted from the side. "He's the founder of Zero Security Inc. You know…'You don't have security-'"

"-Unless you have Zero Security.'" She finished, impressed. "You secure everything. Private homes, computer networks, banks, landmarks…"

"Government buildings," Quatre quipped.

"That's right. My building. The guards are all from your firm."

"As is the alarm system and internet firewall." Rowan added with a matter-of-factness as crisp as his pressed suit. 

"You must feel very proud to have reached that level of success at such a young age," Relena commented politely.

"No different than either of you I suspect," he nodded to both of them. They looked away; Quatre, at his shoes and Relena, at the maple tree in the distance. "But I suppose I owe most of my success to Quatre here."

"Let me stop you there, my friend.  I'm afraid I don't take complements very well.  I'd rather have people talk about me behind my back." His eyes twinkled. "You'll have to excuse me.  I have some…hosting duties to attend to." Relena smiled and nodded at him to let him know she was fine on her own.  It seemed his gaze lingered on Rowan's face as if looking for something, but the action was too brief for her to analyze.  After he'd left, Relena continued the conversation.

"Quatre told me how he was the one who gave you the loan to start your company.  But you have to admit that the success was all due to your own skill in business." He gave her another cryptic twist of the mouth that could barely be called a smile. It made her heart swell for a second.

"All skills must be learned, Miss Dorlian." He intoned. "I learned mine at the new Harvard School of Business, with all my tuition paid by the Winner scholarship."

"Oh no," laughter bubbled in her voice. "I helped him form that fund. For veteran soldiers interested in pursuing-"

"-a career in business." He finished her sentence smoothly. 

"You mean he doesn't know?"

"He knows I couldn't pay my way through school without aid.  He just doesn't know where I obtained it.  I suppose his sisters or some assistant of his was in charge of distributing the funds."

"I'd love to see the look on his face if he ever found out." Relena laughed again. "You can call me Relena if you like, Mr. Welling." 

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to call me Rowan," he smiled that odd smile again.  It vanished as an older man bumped into him from behind. 

"Excuse me. Oh it's you, Mr. Welling." The middle-aged man shook Rowan's hand vigorously.  "I see Mr. Winner convinced you to have a look at what you'll be missing if you don't take his offer." His dark eyes glinted with something akin to greed.

"Yes.  I hope **you** are enjoying yourself, Mr. Zane." He flashed his fake smile, which was almost picture perfect.

"Quite. Why Minister Dorlian, I almost didn't see you there.  How are you?" He extended his hand, which Relena shook on reflex.

"Fine, thank you. And yourself?" All her responses were automatic.  She could do this in her sleep. She might as well have been for all the attention she gave him. Her eyes were trained on Rowan Welling.  This mystery man with a fake smile and a perfect appearance.

"You know, you should try running for office." She posited, once Mr. Zane had left to rub elbows with the other rich and famous. Rowan cocked his head in a slightly confused gesture.    

"How's that?"

"You're very good at talking to people and holding in your natural reactions.  You're professional and polite." She tried to hide the earnestness in her voice.

"I think you were talking about yourself there. I don't have any political ambitions or ideals." He brushed it off.

"That's exactly why you might do well I think.  You wouldn't have anything to compromise that way. Ideals only get you in trouble in politics.  I learned that the hard way." The last sentence was tinged with a personal bitterness.  Suddenly, he was touching her arm.  

"Your ideals helped a lot of people, Relena.  I wouldn't be here now if it weren't for you.  I owe my success to you too.  Not just Quatre.  If you hadn't stood up for your beliefs I would still be a soldier fighting in an endless war, or worse, killed in a battle I didn't even understand."  He said these words quietly and seriously. No intonations clouded their meaning and his statement washed over her like cool waves on a summer day. She looked up at his face, itching to pull those sunglasses off and gaze into those eyes that were probably glowing in sincerity if his words were any indication. Instead she looked away and stepped back.  It seemed her self-control was intact after all.

"Are your eyes very sensitive to light?" she asked suddenly. He seemed startled at the non-sequitur question.

"I—yes, actually." He gave her one of his mechanical smiles, perhaps to cover his confusion. "Working in front of a computer screen for extended hours in an office with dim fluorescent lights isn't exactly good for your sight." Whatever connection they had made had been lost at her sudden question and his subsequent awkwardness. Relena merely nodded and made sounds of acknowledgement at his explanation. They stood silently for an extended second, before Relena decided it was time to leave.

"It was a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Welling. I'm afraid I must be leaving now.  I hope we see each other again." For a moment it looked as if he were going to ask her to stay, or offer an explanation to his change in demeanor.  Instead, he bowed respectfully.  

As she ventured back to the house, Quatre spotted her and walked over.

"You're not leaving so soon?" He asked, concerned.

"I—I think I should go." She replied, refusing to look him in the eye.

"Did something happen?" He clutched her hand. "You're not running away, are you?" She gave him a soft smile and shook her head.

"I really do enjoy visiting here with you, Quatre.  Maybe I'm not as strong as you, but I need to feel free somewhere.  To know that I, as a person beyond the public façade, exist with my own personality. It's hard, and sometimes I'm afraid of that personality. But I know your past, and you know mine, and as long as we trust in that, I can get through it." She looked at the tree at the edge of the lawn. "I want to climb it, Quatre.  I just don't want anyone to see me." 

"Not even the tree?" 

"It's too complicated. He doesn't know me, Quatre.  As far as he knows, I'm the perfect princess of peace. I never make mistakes. I never have doubts. I always know what I'm doing."

"Is that all he knows? He knows you like lattes. He knows you long for freedom.  He knows you'll do anything to get it. I'd say he knows you almost as well as I do." He paused. "And if he asks for your number I'm giving it to him." She opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her with a gentle squeeze of her hand.

"If he calls and you're still afraid—"

"I'm not afr—"

"If he calls and you're still…unsure, you can tell him so yourself. You want to live your life so badly, but you don't even know how. I'm trying to show you, Relena, because I do know you. And I trust you to make the right decisions."  

With a final glance at the majestic tree, she nodded. 

"Thank you, Quatre.  I had a great time." She squeezed his shoulder and walked into the house to retrieve her things. Once she had disappeared behind the impressive oak doors, he turned to look for the man in question.  He found Rowan in the same place she'd left him, a pensive look on his face as he stared out across the grounds. Quatre clapped a hand on Rowan's shoulder. 

"I hope it's a price you're pondering.  Ready to sell yet?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"The company has been my life for the past five years, Quatre. I can't let go of it so easily."

"You just need something to fill its place," Quatre suggested nonchalantly.

 "Or someone." He looked up to see Rowan watching Relena walk gracefully down the marble steps of his porch to the limo waiting on the drive. "You two seem to have a very close relationship."  Rowan said conversationally, though to Quatre his tone held some shades of accusation.

"We understand each other." Quatre dismissed any insinuations his companion was attempting to make. "You will too."

"She doesn't know me," he commented. Quatre raised an interested eyebrow and half smiled.

"That's exactly what she said." They both looked again towards the lady in question, and Rowan watched her leave for a second time.  As her limo drove away, he wondered if the fates would allow them to meet again.


	3. Real

AN: well…here it is… the final installment in the 'Ordinary' fic arc… I really appreciate all the great feedback you guys gave me for the first 2 parts… I hope this one measures up to your expectations…and hopefully answers some questions… I have a feeling more questions will arise… so I'm thinking of writing a prequel dealing with Rowan's past… lemme know if you're interested… thanx again guys! Enjoy!

**Real**

By Miaka Mouse ?__)~

The book fluttered to the ground like a dying bird struggling to stay aloft.  Relena bent down to retrieve the diary she had knocked off her desk in her need to relieve some stress.  She watched the pages flap, catching a phrase from her innermost thoughts here and there.

_Tired…trapped…frustrating…sometimes…lonely…I just don't care… _

And as the book flipped shut, she realized she had to make a decision.

***********************

Reporters and camera crews were falling all over each other like a litter of kittens fighting for milk.  Relena let the curtain behind the stage fall from her fingertips and, taking a deep breath, braced herself against the wall.  How many times had she made a speech in this very auditorium?  It was a familiar setting, the main reason she had selected it as the place to make her announcement.  But what she had to say today was far beyond anything she had ever discussed here before. For a split second she debated backing out, until the voice of her introducer filled the speakers.

She stepped out on stage then, wearing the fake smile that came so naturally now, as camera bulbs flashed and spotlights beamed. There were no note-cards or papers in hand today, no slides or videos to be shown. She felt restless without something to hold. 

For a moment, she expected the curtain to swing at the end of the stage to reveal Heero glaring at her from the darkened corner, daring her to speak her mind.  But the curtain remained still and she could not feel his eyes on her form.  It would be so much easier if he were there to bring out her strength. She looked down at the audience and saw Rowan in the front row, smiling up at her.  Her heart swelled at the sight of his crooked grin, encouraging and supporting her. She began to speak then, realizing that she didn't need Heero's challenging glare anymore; not when she had Rowan's encouraging smile.

The words came easily after that, as if she were speaking to her friends and confidants instead a room full of reporters and politicians.  Whenever she felt herself hesitate, she would glance down at the seat Rowan occupied next to Quatre and the will to express herself would bloom in her chest like a bud in spring.

She told them of her feelings of helplessness and displacement. That, like the veteran soldiers, she found her role as a peacemaker obsolete. In ten years, her job had gone from preventing violence to negotiating business deals.  Members of the audience wiped their eyes as she spoke of the war orphans and disabled veterans who faced new trials, now that peace had become ingrained in their world.  And finally, she told them that her position as Foreign Minister was ill-suited to address these new problems.

The blood rushed to her ears and her hands clenched around the edges of the podium.  Her gaze came upon Rowan's face once again and, for the first time, she was thankful he was wearing his glasses. The stage lights produced a glare on the lenses so she wouldn't see the expression in his eyes as she stated the final sentence of her speech.

"And that is why I am resigning from my post as Foreign Minister."

*********************************

The trip to her waiting limo was like swimming upstream, but unlike formless water that gives way, the crowd of people demanding answers was full of hard, solid and unyielding bodies.  Relena used her arms to paddle through them, stating "No comment" in a firm voice when a reporter happened to make eye contact.  The passenger door to her car was in sight, held open by her driver.  It was moments like these when she most felt Pagan's missing presence. He would no doubt be fighting against the crowd trying to pull her to safety, unlike this new driver who only extended a hand in her direction to guide her to the waiting vehicle. It had been three years since Pagan had passed on.  She supposed that was the point when everything seemed to catch up to her, as if he had been keeping all her doubts at bay just by his presence. From then on, the feelings of emptiness crept up like a growing shadow, until she could no longer feel the light or the warmth of the sun.  

The door slammed shut beside her as she settled in to her seat, anxious to remove herself from the scene. Before the driver could sit down, the door on the other side of Relena clicked open.  She started at the flood of light that seemed to glare at her, and she leaned forward to drive back the unwanted person.  She hadn't expected them to attack from the other side.  They'd never done it before.  It seemed they hadn't done it now either, for the man thrusting his head through the door was not a reporter; a point he had adamantly stated the first time they had met. 

"Rowan? What are you--?"

"Come on!" He interrupted her, extending a hand. "Let's get out of here!"

"But—I, oh what the hell…" She squashed any hesitation rising within her and moved to get out of the car. There was something in his voice that left no room for argument. The tone tickled the back of her mind, trying to dredge up something important. The driver, who had finally got himself inside the car, looked back at her worriedly.

"Miss Relena…" his voice wavered.

"Just go! Drive as fast as you can.  I'll see you at the house." She called, leaning her head back to look at him, before finally climbing out of the car.  They ran across the street, and seeing that they were safely around the corner, the driver sped away, leaving the desperate reporters chasing after the empty limo.  Relena laughed aloud at the sight, relief flooding her as she leaned against the cement wall of the building.  Catching her breath, she turned to her companion, who was smiling that crooked smile of his. "So, where to now?"

"Wherever you want, Relena.  It's your life."  She couldn't stop the smile that overtook her face, or her arms from embracing the man who had just spoken those perfect words. 

"I could kiss you right now," she pulled back to look at him.  The smile slipped and she brought her hand to his face. "You're wearing sunglasses again." He stepped back from her embrace and looked up to the sky, his hand rising to his forehead to shade it from the sun. 

"It's really sunny today." She nodded, letting it pass for now.

"It's hot too." She commented, unbuttoning her suit jacket. "I hate wearing these things in the summer." Shrugging it off, she eyed his double-breasted blazer and silk tie. "Aren't you hot?" He regarded her for a minute before unbuttoning his own jacket and loosening his tie.  There was something about the way he moved that caught her eye.  The efficiency with which he seemed to do things niggled that spot in the back of her mind again.  Her musings were interrupted by the pleasant jingle of an ice cream truck rounding the next block.  The sound wasn't as familiar as she would have liked it to be; she couldn't even hum the tune.  Rowan, who had noticed that she'd suddenly gone quiet, was watching her, waiting for her to speak. When she realized it, she immediately commented," the ice cream man, can you hear him?" 

"Do you want to get some ice cream?" he asked seriously.  She smiled, her eyes laughing as she clasped his arm and led him to the truck now surrounded by giggling children. 

"What flavor do you like?" He hesitated at her question before answering with a lukewarm,

"Vanilla." She gave him a disbelieving look, but turned back to the vendor to order a cone of vanilla along with her own choice of strawberry.  

"I saw you sitting with Quatre in the front row," she commented as they waited for the man to finish preparing their desserts. 

"Yeah, he had to go back to work," Rowan smirked, seemingly amused by the idea.

"And you didn't?" She asked, becoming increasingly confused with his expression as his smile widened.

"No." He was content to leave his reply at that, and looked to be rather pleased with himself at that.  Relena had begun to pick up on his subtle expressions each time she came in contact with him, but this one kept her mind occupied even as she accepted her ice cream from Rowan.  She never even noticed that he'd paid for them, a fact that would have had her protesting if she'd realized it.  She took a thoughtful lick at the creamy confection, all the while mulling over his cryptic replies. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she exclaimed,

"You sold it to him!" She looked up and smiled, pleased with both herself and him. "Your company. Congratulations!" She paused, "I think?" Her brow furrowed for a moment, but smoothed itself out again as she observed him shaking his head in amusement. "What will you do now?"

"You first. What are your plans?" He took a bite out of the white mound atop his cone.

"Me? I—" she stuttered, before finally organizing her thoughts back to coherency. "Would it be terribly flaky of me to say I don't know?"

"If it is, then I'm as flaky as you are." She laughed whole-heartedly at his reply, trying to imagine this strong and mysterious man as a flake.  He watched her, the same heartwarming smile, which had given her so much strength, gracing his features. Her laughter subsided as she took in his expression, reveling in the gentle curve of his mouth. "You're dripping."

"Huh?" Relena responded, oh-so-intelligently, startled at the sudden opening of his lips as they formed those words.

"You're ice cream is dripping." He certainly did enjoy pointing out these little things, as if he found human imperfection so very droll.  She rushed to lick at the sides of her cone, feeling a mixture of foolishness and lightheartedness. It really felt wonderful to be imperfect.  And that she should be feeling so, in this park surrounded by towering skyscrapers and paved roads, made it all the more meaningful. 

Rowan dodged a drooping tree branch as Relena made her way through the man-made haven.  They could still hear the children laughing and the ice cream man jingling that merry tune, but it seemed a far-away sound now.  A soft breeze played with their hair and rustled the leaves around them.  Relena smiled up at Rowan absorbing this aura of tranquility and the man who seemed to embody it.  

"Hey!" Relena was startled out of her reverie by a man grabbing her arm.  He looked like the typical blue-collar worker, dressed in a faded denim jacket and worn leather boots. His face was gaunt and peppered with stubble. "Aren't you the Foreign Minister?" He squinted at her, almost glaring. His grip was firm on her arm and Rowan looked ready to jump on him.  She turned to give Rowan a reassuring look before replying to the middle aged man in front of her.

"Not anymore." The man's brow furrowed at her words and his mouth twisted into a sneer. His gnarled hand tightened around her.

"I heard your speech alright. You think you can just up and leave, forget about all your responsibilities. You think peace is just gonna keep itself? You've got another thing coming."  She searched his face, confused by his irritated tone. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I'll show you." His hand reached into the inside of his threadbare jacket and before Relena could blink, she was pushed to the ground, landing on the thick grass with a soft thud.  She turned onto her side, one hand propping her up as she watched Rowan struggle with the other man. The man was protesting loudly and waving his arms around to evade Rowan's hold.  Suddenly, a wayward fist landed on Rowan's face knocking his sunglasses off.  Relena watched them sail smoothly to the ground, staring at them wide-eyes as they landed.  She couldn't rip her eyes from the sight of them. 

Suddenly, a denim clad body landed on top of them, shaking her out of her daze.  Rowan pinned the man's arms behind him and pressed his knee into the middle of his back.  The man continued his protests.

"I wasn't gonna do anything!" Rowan pulled the loosened tie out from around his collar and tied the man's wrists expertly.  Relena watched him with rapt interest, taking in his disheveled state.  She had never thought it was possible for him to look anything other than immaculate, but there he was, hair hanging over his eyes, shirt half open from where the buttons had popped off during the struggle.  She watched as he reached into his trouser pocket to retrieve his cell phone and flipped it open with his teeth as he still subdued the laborer. 

"It's me. Send two cars over ASAP. One to escort a perp to the authorities, and one for me." He paused, listening. "I know you don't work for me anymore. Count this as a favor," he continued. He shut the phone and finally turned his head to look at her. "Somebody should be coming in a few minutes."

But Relena couldn't reply.  Not after finally seeing his eyes.  The sight was almost blinding in its intensity, both visually and emotionally.  His gaze pierced into hers, emotions displaying themselves openly in the bright blue orbs that were his eyes. How could this strong and mysterious man be the same dark and dangerous boy from her past? And there lay her answer.  For what was his strength if not the maturation of his danger? His mystery but a tempering of that darkness? Blue flames flickered against gusts of silver as he watched her reaction expectantly, knowing exactly what words would be out of her mouth next. She didn't disappoint him.

"Heero…"

"I'm not Heero."

**********************

Relena's eyes opened lazily as she stirred from her uncomfortable position on the couch.  Her head shot up suddenly as she remembered Rowan, causing a shooting pain in her sore neck.  A result of falling asleep in such an awkward place.  She was in her den, curled against the arm of the sofa.  Was it all a dream? Did she really resign? Or was it all just a cruel vision her subconscious had teased her with? Did she really talk to Rowan as candidly as she remembered? She'd seen his eyes, finally. And they'd reminded her of Heero…and then…

_"I'm not Heero. Not anymore.  I never really was actually." _

How she hoped it was real! Those hours of conversation couldn't have been just in her head, could they? She pulled herself up and hobbled toward the door, her lower leg tingling slightly with pins and needles.  He was standing at the front door, the glass door propped open with his graceful frame as he spoke softly into his mobile phone.   His body was turned slightly away from her, head tilted up to look at the night sky. The low rumbling of his voice flowed to her ears.

"I know how disappointed you are that you won't be able to use my company to pit against Quatre's, but it was about time I got out of it.  Weren't you the one who told me I was getting obsessed with work?" She could hear the amusement in his voice and sighed softly at the sound of it.  His posture straightened, and she knew he'd heard her. "I have to go now.  Listen, I'm sure there are a lot of companies out there that need to hire an engineering contractor.  I'll send you some contact info." He turned to look at her, warmth exuding from his fiery eyes. It was strange how open his face seemed now that his glasses weren't obstructing the view.

"How did he take it?" 

"Pretty well. Maxwell was always about making things as difficult as possible.  I think he just likes to see how I'll react." He smiled ruefully as he said this, both amused and slightly annoyed at that feature in his friend, as if he believed that Duo could never be anything but what he was. 

She touched his face softly and he looked down at her in puzzlement. Her fingers traced his jaw line and she smiled up to answer the question in his eyes. 

"I thought it was all a dream." 

"I'm real." He whispered. His hand rose to cover hers, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "Are you?" 

And framed by the open door and the starlit night beyond, she answered the best way she could. With her mouth firmly planted on his.

The End.

Special Thanx To:

Cat: I'm glad u liked the second part…I hope to go more in depth with who Rowan is in a prequel… did this chapter answer enough for you? Or do u want more?

Wicked cool: Your wish is granted! Heero has made an appearance..sort of.. J 

Serendipity: your enthusiasm is flattering… now that u kno who rowan is you can **really** die happy…yes?

Raine: ::glomps:: thanx so much for ur review… looks like u can hold back on the tomatoes and dorothy J I'm glad u liked

And to the anonymous reviewer: thanx for reading! 


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